Charlie Weasley always had a thing for dragons.
He remembered playing in the back yard of the burrow, all uncut grass and wild flowers, with his imaginary friend, a baby Chinese Fireball he called Frank. Not one of the most original names he could have come up with, sure, but the name didn't matter. However, the adventures they went on together did.
A few years later, for his eighth birthday, his parents bought him a broom: a brand new shooting star, his pride and joy. After that, he would be outside, shooting through the skies, pretending he was flying with a Hungarian Horntail at his back. With all that twisting and turning to avoid the imaginary flames, it was never a wonder he became such a good seeker.
As he reached Hogwarts age, he would haunt the library to find every single book he could about dragons. He would spend hours poring over them in the dusty, dimly lit aisle. Talking with Hagrid was also good. The man had an interest almost as large as his own, and between the two of them, their conversations could go on for a long time. Too long, was the voted opinion of the girls that tried to catch the attention of the dashing redhead, only to find that they would forever be coming second.
Then he got his job in Romania. How he managed that, Charlie would never know. Getting to work with dragons every day, and getting paid for it as well, was definitely a dream come true. What he was doing now however, was not.
Molly Weasley almost always has good intentions. Unfortunately, you cannot raise the amount of children she had and not come out of it without a very firm belief that you are always right. A slight hesitation in what you're saying, and you have seven children ignoring you and going back to whatever chaos they were causing to begin with.
This belief was why all of the Weasley clan had snuck off muttering excuses into their usual hiding places, leaving Charlie to have to face the full brunt of what is Molly Weasley on a mission.
"...and I don't understand it. One moment you're going to Hogwarts, and then as soon as you graduated you're off to the other side of the world..."
Yep, it was the same speech as the last three times he'd decided to visit his birth home.
"...I mean, you only visit us once every few years, and it's not like we even receive many letters from you..."
Charlie thought guiltily for a moment about the small pile of unopened letters he had in his apartment back in Romania, before shrugging mentally. With the baby opaleye that had arrived, he'd barely had time for sleeping, let alone anything else.
"...and I just wonder when you're going to get over this and start looking for a proper job..."
Charlie sighed. His mother had always had a problem with his career choice. Both his and Bill's to be honest, but now that Bill had got hitched and had a daughter on the way, Mrs Weasley and decided to turn a blind eye on some of his brothers supposedly wrong decisions. Unluckily, this left Charlie with...
"...and when are you going to settle down? You're old enough to have gotten over this ridiculous notion about those creatures you work with..."
He twitched slightly. Closing his eyes for a moment, he repeated the mantra in his mind. Almost time, it's almost time, it's almost time, it's almost time.
"...and you need to find a wife. Goodness knows that you won't find anyone at your 'work'. There are plenty of young women that I could introduce you to..."
Urgh. No other words needed.
"...I wish you would realise that I just want what's best for you..."
...and here come the guilt trip. Years of experience had taught him to ignore this. His mother had opinions on every part of his life, and was never shy to tell them to him, whether they were alone or in a room full of people. That trait had certainly led to a rather large portion of awkward evenings where the other people in the room didn't quite know where to look. However, he'd learnt how to make a quick getaway, and Gred and Forge were always helpful when he ran out of ideas on how to get out of those situations.
Huh. She had gone quiet. Sometime during his silent musing she had finished her rant. He looked at the clock and sighed in relief. Four o'clock, and if he was on time...
Knock knock.
"Come in" Charlie said while carefully watching his mother, who looked as if she was about to begin again.
The door opened and footsteps could be heard until the guest walked into the kitchen where the two Weasleys were, and halted at the door.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he drawled.
Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest, one eyebrow elegantly raised, was Draco Malfoy.
Mrs Weasley's mouth dropped open.
Charlie coughed. "Mum, I'm gonna have to turn you down on that whole matchmaker deal. And I should probably warn you now that there's not exactly a wife and kids set up in my future – you've got six other children for that. And I refuse to give up my dragons." He looked at Draco. "Any of them."
With that Charlie stood up and walked towards Draco. He slipped an arm around his waist, and Draco responded by wrapping one around his neck before closing the distance between them.
Somewhere behind them, a glass smashed on the floor, followed by an extremely loud "WHAT?", but the two of them ignored it, too caught up in each other for anything else to matter.
But no-one should have been surprised, really. After all, Charlie Weasley always did love dragons.